


Open Up the Moon

by Skara_Brae



Category: Supernatural, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Kidnapping, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skara_Brae/pseuds/Skara_Brae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is a powerful Sentinel working for the FBI. He starts zoning out with alarming frequency and it is determined that he needs a Guide. Castiel is resistant, and his family decides to take matters into their own hands...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Up the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Vague spoilers for The Sentinel, none for Supernatural

“You’re awfully quiet this morning, Grumpy,” Pam teased. She put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset because that lawyer thought I was the Sentinel.”

“I was never upset,” Castiel protested. “People always think that you are the Sentinel.”

Pam laughed. “That’s because I look like a freak and you look like a Fed.”

“Yet, we are both Feds.” Castiel rolled his shoulders. The hotel bed has been particularly uncomfortable.

“And both freaks.” She gave him a cheeky grin he couldn’t help returning.

He was silent for another minute. “I was just thinking about the case again.”

Pam sighed. “She was dead before we got here. There was nothing we could have done.”

“I should have zeroed in on the neighbor sooner, though.”

“How?” she asked. “You got psychic powers in addition to your enhanced senses now?”

“I should have known his scent was too strong in her apartment.”

“Castiel,” Pam said firmly. “We got the guy. It’s over. He’ll never hurt anyone else again. There is no need to second guess yourself.”

“I suppose.” He leaned back in his seat and took in the passing scenery. It was only 5 hours back to Quantico. He hoped Pam wouldn’t mind if he slept a bit on the way.

When Pam didn’t take the ramp onto the freeway, he turned to her. “Where are we going?”

Pam bit her lip before answering, “Sherriff Mills asked us to come by the station and give a brief talk about who we are and what we do--“

“Oh for God’s sake.” Castiel buried his head in his hands.

“--And Victor agreed that it would be a good idea,” Pam went on over him. “You always say it’s awful there is so much misinformation out there. This is a chance to correct that.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He couldn’t argue with that, but still, he hated being paraded in front of people. It made him feel like…well, even more of a freak than usual.

Once at the police station, Sherriff Mills ushered them into a small auditorium. Castiel was always amazed at how similar police stations felt, all across the country. They smelled of old sweat and stale coffee, and lingering bad, reheated food. Cigarette smoke clung to half of the officers’ clothes. It looked like the entire off duty police force, as well as all the cadets, had shown up to this impromptu lecture. And they were all staring like he was Exhibit A.

“You’re doing all the talking,” Castiel whispered to Pam as they walked awkwardly to the center of the stage.

Sherriff Mills stood at the podium. “Today we have two very special guests from the FBI’s High Profile Crimes Unit. Special Agent Novak is a Sentinel and Special Agent Barnes is a Guide. They are going to tell you a little bit about themselves and their work.”

A murmur went through the audience, and a voice from the back called out, “I thought the whole Sentinel thing was a fraud. Didn’t that guy admit he made it all up?”

Castiel sighed. Sentinels had made major news two decades ago. A professor in Washington had pioneered the claim that there were special people with greatly enhanced senses, far beyond normal people. He called them “behavioral throwbacks to a pre-civilized breed of man”, who had watched over and protected ancient villages. The announcement had caused quite a stir, but then that professor had come forward and stated that he made the whole thing up. The professor was disgraced and the whole story died rather quickly.

Pam gave him a telling smile, stepped to the podium and launched into her usual spiel. Professor Sandburg, she explained, had recanted his story in order to protect the object of his study. Sentinels, she explained, usually are private people who are uncomfortable in the public eye. “Case in point,” she muttered as she glanced back at him.

Castiel shrugged. He was leaning back against the wall, half listening to Pam’s speech. He had heard it many times before. He mentally calculated how much longer it would be before they could escape back to Quantico. He tried to tone down his senses as much as possible, but could detect several cell phones buzzing in pockets, and the restless thumping of someone’s foot.

Sentinels and Guides were now officially recognized by the government, Pam told the audience, and an official government agency, the Commission for the Study of Sentinels and Guides, or CSSEG, had been established to monitor and assist them.

She went on for a while with the basic facts and some anecdotes. Castiel distracted himself by listening in to a phone conversation going on outside the auditorium. Something about a mixed up cake order. Pam finished her spiel and then offered, as usual, to take any questions. And, as usual, most of the questions were directed to Castiel.

“So you have special powers?” an older gentleman in the front row asked with his eyebrows raised. He was the foot thumper, Castiel noted.

“Sentinels don’t have special powers,” Pam corrected firmly. “They have enhances senses. That means they can see over very long distances clearly, they can hear things no one else can hear, smell things normal people wouldn’t be able to detect--”

“So, I guess you’d be better than the German Shepherds we have when doing searches.” Sarcasm dripped from the man’s tone. Light chuckles broke out through the room.

Castiel felt his temper flare. He narrowed his senses for a moment. “I doubt a German Shepherd could tell you that you should see a cardiologist. You have a slight heart murmur.”

The guy went pale, and silence fell immediately. Finally a hesitant voice asked, “You can hear heartbeats?”

Castiel hated that he had been goaded into what looked like a parlor trick, but went on. “Yes, I can hear each of your heartbeats if I listen for them.” He stopped for a moment, then looked around. “Except for you,” he addressed a woman in the front row of the audience. “From you, I hear two. Congratulations.”

The woman flushed. “Oh…Thank you.”

“Castiel,” Pam hissed at him.

Castiel realized he had probably overstepped. He stepped back and let her take over again. Thankfully, someone asked Pam what her role in their partnership was. She explained that Sentinels were powerful, but they were vulnerable to “zones”. These were episodes where they became so focused on one of their senses that it blocked out everything else. Sentinels could become trapped like this, unable to reverse it, until some outside force brought them back. Guides were people talented at bringing Sentinels out of their zones. It was mostly an innate skill, though some claimed that it could be learned.

A young woman raised her hand, and Castiel groaned inwardly. He could tell what this next question would be.

“So are you two…bonded?” she asked dreamily.

Pam gave Castiel a smirk before answering. “No. Sentinels and Guides can work together without being bonded. Special Agent Novak and I are just…good friends.”

“Agent Barnes, I am available for ‘bonding’ if you are interested,” a voice called out from the back of the room.

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t handle me,” Pam called back, and the room broke into laughter.

“All right, settle down,” Sherriff Mills ordered.

The room quieted.” Any last questions?” Pam asked.

One of the officers raised his hand, “How did you both discover your skills?”

Pam smiled. “My high school ran a pilot program to screen for Sentinels and Guides. No one was more shocked than I was when I was identified. I spent most of my time skipping class and going to rock concerts. CSSEG helped get me a scholarship and go to college.”

She turned to Castiel. He took a deep breath, then said, “I zoned out when I was a sophomore in college. My roommate came home from classes and found me in front of the TV. I was taken to a hospital in Chicago where a CSSEG specialist brought me out of the zone. After that, I was given training to control and focus my senses.”

“All right,” Sheriff Mills jumped in. “It’s almost time for shift change. I would like to thank our guests from the FBI for taking the time to speak to us.”

There was a smattering of applause and the crowd began to disperse. Castiel whispered to Pam that he would be waiting in the car and dashed out before he could get ambushed with any more questions.

20 minutes later, Pam opened the car door and gave him a dirty look. “You owe me for that, Novak.”

“I do,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take any more of that.”

She got into the car and started it. “Well, I’ll forgive you if you do all the paperwork for that last case.”

“Done.” Castiel agreed. He smiled at her. Pam was a great partner. It really was a shame that he couldn’t bond with her, but he felt nothing for her but a strong friendship. It was nothing like…He saw a flash of green eyes in his mind and then shook his head. No point in dwelling on that.

“And, Castiel, you can’t go around outing other people’s medical conditions. Not that I minded about that jerk, but you can’t go tell everyone that a woman’s pregnant. What if it was a secret?”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said automatically.

“It’s okay,” She glanced at him, “She said she was wondering how to tell people. You took care of that for her, but,” she said sternly, “Don’t do it again.”

“I won't, I promise.” She smiled at him.

The rest of the drive passed in the usual fashion. Pam kept him updated on the office gossip, and they talked about book, movies, and their weekend plans. They got back to Quantico by mid-afternoon. Castiel buried himself in the promised paperwork.

Around 5:30 he left his office in search of a snack. The High Profile Crimes unit was located in the center of the FBI’s Quantico complex. Their office was severely lacking in windows, but since it was so late in the year, Castiel knew the sun had already set. He stretched his shoulders as he proceeded to the closest kitchenette. He felt more tired than usual lately. Everyone was heading home, judging by the silence in the hallways, but he had no one waiting for him, so he felt he might as well finish his report.

Once in the hallway, his nose wrinkled. Someone had burnt popcorn. His olfactory sense spiked and the enhanced scent had his stomach revolting. He tried to dial it down by exhaling quickly, but unexpectedly, his other senses flared. Everything suddenly became too loud. He heard heartbeats thundering in his ears, the buzz from the lights above was almost deafening. He squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears. His skin felt like it was on fire.

He wasn’t sure if he managed to cry out as he collapsed onto the floor. He felt too much of everything, then suddenly nothing at all.

***

“Castiel. Castiel,” a voice was insistently calling to him.

Slowly, he felt himself emerge from the zone. His hearing came back first, triggered by Pam’s voice. Then he could feel his body. He was lying down, utterly exhausted. He inhaled deeply and smelled the leather sofa he was lying on, and the faint aroma of coffee gone stale. He forced his eyes open. He was in Victor Hendrickson’s office. He barely had the energy to turn his head to see Pam next to him, grasping his hand.

“How long?” His voice sounded rough.

“You were out for almost an hour.” It was Victor’s voice, from the other side of the room.

“What happened?” Pam asked as she helped him sit up.

“Lost control,” He growled. “Senses spiked.”

“This is your second zone out in two weeks,” Victor noted. “Should we be concerned?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You zoned out in the hallway. You weren’t even trying to enhance your senses.” Victor’s voice was sharp, but Castiel could hear a note of concern.

“I’m just tired. That last case wore me out,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand across his eyes. He was tired, and embarrassed, and worried. Zoning out because of burnt popcorn? He had seen the signs, knew what was coming, but it was happening faster than he expected. “I’m just going to go home.”

He got up slowly and headed for the door, purposefully ignoring the looks he felt sure Pam and Victor were exchanging.

Victor made Pam drive him. On the way there, she said, a bit too brightly, “So, there is a CSSEG event in DC on Friday. Let’s go together.”

“Pam—“ he groaned.

“I’m serious. You never know, you might meet someone—“

“I’m not going to meet anyone.”His hands tightened into fists in his lap. He forced himself to relax them slowly.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

She looked so sad, it made his stomach clench. “Castiel, it took me over an hour to pull you out today. It’s getting worse. I’m not enough anymore. You need to find a Guide to bond with, and soon.” She stopped the car in front of his building.

Castiel clenched his hand around the door handle. It wasn’t fair of him to put Pam in this position. She still had hope for him. He turned, and looked into her eyes. “Pam, I am not going to find my Guide in D.C.”

“Psychic powers again?” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

“Pam,” he said with a sigh. “My Guide is not in D.C.”

“Oh,” she said, and bit her lip.

***

It happened twice more the next week. The last time, one of the analysts found him zoned out standing next to the coffee machine in the office. Pam was at her wits end. The FBI put him on administrative leave. He was “strongly encouraged” to visit the local CSSEG office for emergency therapy. Which, Castiel knew, meant they would sit him in a room and parade every single, non-bonded Guide they could get their hands on by him, one by one, hoping something would happen with someone.

He had no intention of subjecting himself to that, especially since he knew it would be pointless.

What Castiel did was make a reservation on the next available flight to Illinois.

***

Gabriel Novak knew something was up. He had known it the minute he saw his brother in the airport terminal.

“So,” he said, a bit too cheerfully, as they were driving back to Pontiac from the airport in Chicago. “What brought on this visit? Just trying to make up for ditching us at Thanksgiving?”

“I said I was sorry about that at the time. We had a hot case,” Castiel replied.

“Yeah, yeah, all your cases are hot.” Gabriel turned and smiled at his brother. Castiel was staring out the window, a blank expression on his face. He felt a pang of concern. “Hey, you know, it’s okay. We know you have important work to do. We are all proud of you.”

Castiel didn’t say anything.

Gabriel felt his stomach twist. “So, how long are you staying? Castiel…Castiel?”

Castiel broke from his reverie. “Um, a few weeks, I guess.”

“A few weeks? That long? Not that we’re complaining, of course.”

Castiel didn’t answer.

“Don’t you have important FBI business?” Gabriel added, a bit desperately.

“I’m on leave from the FBI.”

“Leave?” Gabriel tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Castiel murmured non-committedly.

Gabriel didn’t say anything else, but his mind started racing. Clearly, something was wrong. He knew his brother well, though. If he started pushing, Castiel would just shut down.

They stopped for lunch on the way home. Gabriel pretended he had a work call and excused himself outside. Once there, he called Pamela Barnes. He and Pam had had a memorable evening together when he visited Castiel last year.

Pam gave him all the details; Castiel’s increasingly frequent zone outs, her inability to help and his refusal to go to CSSEG. He felt nauseated by the time he hung up, promising to let Pam know how Castiel was doing.

What the hell was his brother thinking?

“That was a long conversation.” Castiel remarked idly, as Gabriel returned to his seat.

Gabriel froze. Did his brother suspect his snooping?

“Work’s been busy. Business is good.”

“That’s good.”

Gabriel could feel himself starting to panic a little. It was unlike Castiel to be so withdrawn. Normally, when he came to visit he was full of questions, about their family, how Michael’s kids were doing in school, about the business, about the house, the neighbors. Now, he was just blank.

“Castiel,” he pleaded. “What’s going on?

“Didn’t Pam tell you?” Castiel gave him a knowing look.

“Your super hearing worked all the way out in the parking lot?” Gabriel looked around. They were surrounded by dozens of people, noisily chatting.

Castiel chuckled humorlessly. “I am not an idiot.”

Gabriel changed course. “Let’s go back to Chicago. We can take you to the center--“

“I am not going to the center,” Castiel said firmly. “There’s nothing they can do for me there.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just want to go home, Gabriel. Let me go home, and rest for a few days. We can argue about it later.”

Gabriel acquiesced. He was unlikely to get him to agree to anything right now. They would go home, and he would enlist his other brothers and sister to talk some sense into Castiel.

He kept up a steady stream of small talk the rest of the way home, terrified that his brother would zone out while they were in the car together. He asked about Castiel latest cases, told him all about Raph’s new loft he had just purchased, about Anna’s latest dating disasters. Castiel asked about all the right details, told him everything he asked, but it was clear his heart was not in the conversation. Gabriel felt like he was a 100 miles away. His stomach was full out churning now.

As Castiel was telling him, rather mechanically, about the latest case he had been working on, Gabriel was mentally calculating when to meet with his other siblings. Michael was supposed to leave tonight for a business trip to California, but that could be postponed easily. Anna had a date, but wouldn’t mind cancelling, and Raph was probably free. He should call them soon.

They stopped at a rest area, and as Castiel went inside Gabriel pulled out his phone. His battery was almost gone. Rolling his eyes, he reached into his brother’s bag to grab his phone. He fumbled for a moment then gave up and dumped the contents onto the seat. The phone and a handful of papers fell on the seat. He straightened the papers and was about to shove them back in the bag when he realized what they were. It was a signed living will refusing any life-extending treatment. Gabriel stared for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. This was even worse than he had thought. His brother had come home to die.

Fingers shaking, he located Castiels phone and managed to dial Anna’s number. When she answered he managed to get out, “Emergency meeting tonight. Call Mike and Raph. No excuses. It’s about Castiel.” He hung up before she could even respond as he saw Castiel heading back to the car.

Castiel got in and yawned. “Do you might if I nap a little the rest of the way?”

“No, go ahead,” Gabriel said. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He put the car in gear and headed out to the highway.

They drove in silence for a few exits. The next time Gabriel glanced over, his brother was asleep. He turned his attention back to the road.

The call had come fifteen years ago, while Castiel was still in college.

_“Drugs, right? It has to be drugs,” Michael had said, squeezing his coffee cup so tightly the liquid threaten to spill out of the top._

_“Cassie, on drugs?” Gabriel snorted. “You must be joking.”_

_“What else could it be?”_

_“A brain tumor, encephalitis, schizophrenia, psychotic episode--“ Raph recited casually, flipping through possible diagnoses on his phone._

_“Stop it,” Anna cried, her voice wavering._

_Raph looked a bit chagrinned. “I just mean, it doesn’t have to be drugs that caused this. We have to wait and see what the doctor says. Otherwise we will drive ourselves crazy.”_

_“Novak?” A voice broke in._

_They all jumped up. A doctor approached, carrying a clipboard. “I have called in a specialist to see your brother.”_

_“A specialist?” Michael asked. “For what?”_

_“Well, to be honest, your brother’s condition seems to be a bit out of our league.”_

_“A condition?” Gabriel demanded, raking his hand through his hair, “What kind of condition?”_

_“A very rare condition. I have been told it is sometimes triggered by emotional trauma.” He sobered. “I was informed you recently lost your parents--”_

_“What does that have to do with Castiel?” Raph snapped._

_“I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized. “I am doing an awful job explaining it. The specialist can answer your questions better. She is in with your brother now.”_

Gabriel shook his head at the memory. They had all been shocked when the specialist had explained it to them. Their sweet, dreamy Castiel, a Sentinel? A walking forensics lab? Dr. Harvelle had explained to all of them that Castiel would need some special training to control his gifts, but that he should be able to live out a normal life.

Dr. Harvelle had presented it all as a positive. However, since then, some problems had come to light. Castiel might eventually have some trouble controlling his senses. There had been reports of Sentinels going into unrecoverable zones. They remained in catatonic states and eventually died if their relatives refused to allow medical intervention to keep them alive. But that had all been played down for them. Research was ongoing, and new things were being discovered everyday…

Gabriel snorted bitterly. No research had uncovered a way to stop the zones. Not yet anyway. As Gabriel began to navigate the streets of their hometown, he felt his resolve hardening. That didn’t mean they weren’t going to try. Castiel might have resigned himself to his fate, but his family wasn’t about to give up that easily. He finally pulled into the driveway, and sing-songed, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

The Novak family home was built by their great grandfather in 1898. It was close to the downtown area and filled with old stately touches; stained glass, built-ins, and trayed ceilings. They had grown up playing hide and seek in the drafty attic and sneaking down the back staircase to the kitchen. Only Gabriel and Anna lived there now, each vowing to outlast the other.

They walked through the front door and into the foyer. Castiel pleaded that he was still tired and was going to take a nap before dinner. Gabriel watched him climb the stairs to the second floor room that they used to share growing up.

***

Michael sat forward in his seat, chin resting on his hands. “We need to get him help.”

“How are we supposed to do that? He refused to go to the Center.” Gabriel was sitting by the fireplace, his elbows on his knees.

“So we make him go,” Raph said, pouring himself another drink.

“Hog-tie him and throw him in the back of the car?” Gabriel suggested sarcastically.

“Yes, if that’s what needs to happen.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s going to go over well.”

“Well, at least we would be doing something. I’m not about to sit on my hands here,” Raph downed most of his drink in one go.

Michael raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything, but we need—“

“He doesn’t need the Center,” Anna said quietly from her chair, wiping at her eyes. “He needs his Guide.”

They all turned to look at her. “That’s what we are trying to do,” Michael said. “We need to find him a Guide.”

“He already found his Guide,” she said. “At least, he thought he did.”

“What are you talking about, Anna?”

Anna sighed. “When I was in college, he came to visit me. We went out and got a little…well, a lot drunk.” She ignored Michael’s disapproving look. “He told me he had gone to a CSSEG mixer on the last case he was working on, and he met a Guide there. He said the connection was instant, and he felt they had a,” she made finger quotes, “‘profound bond’. But the guy told him to get lost, or something, and he left. Never saw the guy again.”

She had managed to shock the other three into silence for a moment. Then they all spoke at once.

“What?! He told Cas to get lost?” Gabriel was shocked. Raph and Michael seemed stunned as well. Castiel was patient, kind and fairly good looking. Gabriel could not imagine him being dismissed out of hand like that.

“You know Cas.” Anna rolled her eyes. “He probably came on super-strong at first, but once the guy pulled back, he didn’t push. He doesn’t, not even when it comes to stuff like that. He didn’t even try to contact him again. But he stopped going to the mixers after that.”

Gabriel got out of his seat. “Well, screw that.”

Michael looked a bit affronted. “Gabe.”

“No, Mike,” Gabriel snarled. “Castiel has never asked for anything. He’s devoted his whole life to this “calling,” and I am not going to see him lose it just because his guide got freaked out.”

Raph refilled his glass again. “What do you suppose we do? We have no idea who this guy is--”

“Actually,” Anna jumped in. “I do know who he is. I wrote it down in my journal.”

Once again, all her brothers stared at her.

“What? I wrote everything in my journal back then.”

Michael pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Go get it.”

Anna jumped up and left the room.

“What are you thinking?” Gabriel asked. He walked over and took Raph’s glass out of his hand and downed it himself.

“Just that if we can find this guy, then maybe there is a chance they could still bond.” Michael tapped his index finger against his chin. For a moment, he looked so much like their father that Gabriel’s breath caught. Their parents would have wanted them to help Castiel at any cost.

“You’re proposing we talk to this guy and see if he will come out and attempt to bond with our semi-conscious brother?” Raph seemed unconvinced.

“Well, if we explain the situation, perhaps offer--“

“You’re proposing we bribe this guy?” Gabriel was a bit shocked. Michael was usually abhorred at any hint of misbehavior.

Michael threw up his hands. “What do you think we should do?”

Raph gave him a rather cynical smile. “I say we find him, and we don’t talk to him.”

There was a moment of silence while this sank in.

“My God,” Michael exhaled. “Are you proposing we kidnap this man?” Raph shrugged. “But what if he’s already bonded to someone else? Or married?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel considered. “We can get some background on him first.”

Michael gulped down the rest of his drink and poured himself another.

They sat in silence until Anna bounced back into the room, holding a worn red leather book. She flipped through the pages. “Let’s see, I think it was in March…Ah, here it is. His name was Dean Winchester, and they met in Lawrence, Kansas.”

“Lawrence,” Michael said. “That’s only about 8 hours from here.”

“Let’s hope he still lives there,” Raph put in. He turned to Gabriel. “Do you know anyone in the area?”

Gabriel thought for a moment, then laughed. “Actually, I know just the person.”

***

The next morning, Castiel forced himself to go down to breakfast. Every part of his body hurt, and almost every sense threatened to zone him. The smell of toast in the toaster downstairs, the feel of the sunlight pouring in the windows, the sound of birds chattering outside the window, all pulled him in different directions. The only way he could deal with any of it was to shut down as much as he could. But his control was fraying. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. He felt like he was about to burst of out his skin, it was stretched too thin and too tight. The slightest puncture and he thought he would pop like a balloon. He couldn’t help smiling at that image, though.

Anna smiled at him, and asked, a bit too cheerfully, if he was feeling better. Gabriel too, was bustling around the kitchen, cooking his special waffles, suggesting about 20 things for him to do that day. Castiel felt tears prick at his eyes. They were both trying so hard.

After he had choked down an acceptable amount of breakfast and made enough small talk, he escaped out onto the wide sweeping porch that surrounded the family home. He took several deep breaths and looked out over the front yard. The cold air helped center him.

The picket fence that surrounded the yard had been painted a rather boring shade of white, and the lawn was cleared of leaves. When he was a child, his normally reserved father had delighted them (and appalled the neighbors) by painting the fence a rather lurid shade of bright green. The next year it had been a bright shade of blue. His mother had stopped his father from painting it orange, though, claiming it would clash with her rose bushes. Anna and Gabriel had a gardener tend to their mother’s gardens in the summer, but now her plants were mostly bare and shriveled. A bit like himself, he thought, with a bitter smile.

It was nice, though, to walk around his old home and become absorbed in his memories. Gabriel found him a half an hour later, sitting in the gilder swing in the side yard.

“What are you doing?”

Castiel cleared his throat before responding, “I thought I would just sit here quietly.”

Gabriel looked at him and sighed. He climbed onto the swing and sat next to his brother. He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel tried not to wince at this contact. “We are going to get you better, Cassie.”

Castiel forced himself to smile at his brother. “It’s okay, Gabriel.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “It’s not.”

***

Later that afternoon, Gabriel headed into Novak Corporation headquarters and found his siblings. Once they had secured themselves in a conference room, he told them what he had found out.

“Dean Winchester is 27 years old and still lives in Lawrence at the same address he has lived at his whole life. He lives alone, no wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, nobody. He works at an auto repair place in town, and his neighbors say he mostly keeps to himself. He frequents a local bar called O’Malley’s, but aside from a few random hookups, hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. He is a volunteer coach for the local little league, and he pays his taxes and bills. That’s about it. CSSEG says he’s definitely not bonded to anyone and it’s been years since he even came to a meeting.” Having delivered this information, he sat down in one of the conference room chairs.

Raph leaned back in his seat, and Anna fiddled with her pearls.

They all sat in silence for a moment. Michael spoke first. “Okay, now what?“

Raph jumped in. “I know the manager of the CSSEG Center in St. Louis. He can be induced to look the other way. We get this Winchester guy and Castiel, lock them in a bonding suite for a few days, and…” He shrugged. “We see what happens.”

A long silence followed this pronouncement as they all looked at each other. The tension in the room was tangible.

Michael buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Gabriel knew how he felt. His own stomach had twisted at Raph’s words. It was fine to talk about it in the abstract, but now that they were on the verge of action, everyone was hesitating. Anna kept swallowing like she felt sick, and Raph, for all his bravado, kept clenching and unclenching his hands.

Gabriel was about to speak, but Anna surprised him by clearing her throat and saying, “Okay.”

He turned to her, a bit stunned. “Okay?”

She looked at him, then at the others. “What other options do we have?”

Silence.

“Well,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I vote for Plan A, since Plan A is all we have.”

“It’s not our only option,” Michael said, a bit belatedly. “We could just ask this Winchester to meet with Castiel.”

“Cassie would never go for that,” Gabriel said immediately. “I mean, I’m all for bribery, normally--“ Michael shot him a look, “--but there is no way he’d agree to meet with this guy willingly.”

“But forcing this man into a lifelong bond—“ Michael began.

“We can’t force them to bond. “ Raph declared. “God knows, Castiel wouldn’t let himself do that. From what I understand it’s mostly a consensual act. All I am suggesting is that we lock them both in a room together for a little while.”

Anna added, “That way, they will have to talk to each other, and maybe they can come to an understanding.”

Gabriel was skeptical. “Do you really think that is going to work?”

“Who knows?” Raph shrugged. ‘But there’s a shot.”

“I am still not comfortable with this.” Michael got up and began pacing around the room.

Gabriel sighed. “I am not happy about it either, but we have no better ideas.”

“I still don’t know.”

“What’s not to know?” Gabriel finally exploded. “We either do this, or do nothing, and start planning Castiel’s funeral. His tombstone will look great out there next to Mom and Dad’s.”

“Stop it, Gabriel,” Raph ordered.

“I don’t want to go to prison,” Michael yelled back at him. “I have a wife and children.”

“Oh, you won’t go to prison. If they decide to bond, Winchester can hardly press charges,” Raph said smoothly. “If they don’t, then I am sure we can adequately compensate this mechanic for his time.”

“We aren’t doing anything that bad,” Anna said. “Just locking them in a room and letting them get to know each other again. If Castiel thought he had a profound bond with this guy, we’ll let him test it out.”

It was a feeble argument, Gabriel thought. But it was the only one they had.

It looked like they all realized it. Michael collapsed back in his chair, exhausted.

He swallowed hard. “So we are all agreed?” They all nodded. “Okay, I am too.”

They all sat for a moment, letting it sink in.

Unsurprisingly, Michael took charge. Once committed to a course of action, he charged in wholeheartedly. It made him an effective CEO. “Gabe, can your ‘contact’ get Mr. Winchester to the facility in St. Louis?”

Gabriel sat back in his chair. “Of course he can.”

“Try not to damage him, hmmm?” Raph put in. “When he gets there, have him ask for a Zachariah Alder. He’ll have a suite prepared.”

Gabriel pulled out his cell phone and headed for the hallway, as Michael said to Anna and Raph “Now, we just have to get Castiel there.”

***

Dean Winchester pulled his car into the driveway and cut the engine. For a moment, he sat silently, looking at the dark house. He had finally accepted that Sam was not going to be moving back to Lawrence when he finished school.

Sam had been trying to convince him to move out to California with him since he had first gotten his acceptance letter and scholarship offer to Stanford, but Dean had stubbornly resisted. Lawrence was home. The house was home. He had to stay here.

Lately, though, he had been wondering why. There was really nothing for him here. Sure, he had a job and a few friends, but lately it had just all seemed pointless. He couldn’t remember that last time he had even hooked up with someone. He just felt like he was missing something. He shook his head. He was being morose.

He headed out to the mailbox and pulled out the bills and circulars. He rolled his eyes when he saw the flyer advertising the latest CSSEG mixer. Those people never gave up.

Dean had tested as a Guide his last year in high school. He had immediately been regaled with all the bullshit. “Oh, you’re so special, only Guides can aid and protect Sentinels, very special ancient warriors.” Dean had no time for it. His father had just died, and he needed to make sure Sam didn’t go into foster care. He had been too busy for college, even though the CSSEG people had made grand talk about scholarships and training programs and all that crap.

He did go to the mixers, though. Mainly because they had open bars and never checked IDs. He stopped, though, after… well.

He opened the front door and dropped all the mail on the hall table. He headed into the kitchen to grab a beer when he stopped and gave a (totally non girly) scream at the sight of a man sitting at his kitchen table.

“Hello, darling.”

Dean reared back in shock, and tried to get to the hall closet for his Dad’s old rifle, but he was suddenly grabbed from behind by two men. He struggled but they manage to overpower him, locking his arms behind his back. As he opened his mouth to scream, a gag was roughly shoved in it.

“Now, now,” the man at the table said calmly. “Relax. We’re not going to hurt you.” He was dressed completely in black and his voice carried a trace of an accent, and Dean realized, with sudden indignation, that the man had poured himself a drink of the scotch Dean kept in the liquor cabinet.

The man picked up his glass and drained the rest of it. He shuddered. “My god, how do you drink this swill?”

Dean snorted at that and tried mightily to break the other men’s hold, but they held fast.

“Careful. We don’t want to damage the package,” the man smiled. “Get him in the van.”

Something dark was thrown over Dean’s face and he was manhandled through the garage and into what felt like a large conversation van. His wrists and ankles were bound together with rope, and then they tossed him on the floor.

Dean twisted and wriggled trying to get free. What could these people want with him? He racked his brain, trying to think of anything. Could this have something to do with Sam? But Sam was safe at Stanford. Dean had spoken to him yesterday. He was busy studying for finals, even though they were weeks off.

His jaw was starting to ache from the gag, and his nose had started to run. He tried to wipe it on the cloth they had covering his head. It was a bag, or maybe a pillowcase. Indignation flared as he realized it was one of his pillowcases. These guys didn’t even bring their own stuff.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position, then threw his head forward in an attempt to get the pillowcase off of his head.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” a voice growled close to his ear. “Creedy, get the chloroform.”

Dean jerked back in surprise, but before he could orient himself a rag was pressed over his nose. He struggled, but eventually succumbed. As he faded from consciousness, he heard one of the voice say, “Now you have to watch him to make sure he doesn’t vomit.”

***

Dean woke up with a groan and a screaming headache. His left side ached, due to the fact he had been laying on it. He moaned and tried to roll over.

“Our package is awake,” one of the voices said.

“Just in time,” another responded. “We’re nearly there.”

Dean froze. From the increase in traffic sounds, he suspected that they were they were in a town or city. When the van began to slow and stop, as if for traffic lights, this was confirmed. He tried to think of places they could be taking him.

Dean fought his captors with renewed strength as they pulled him out of the car. He was frog-marched into a building, and he felt the ground under his feet harden and become smooth, like tiles. There was a muttered conversation, and then he was pulled again in another direction. He tried to scream, but no one seemed to hear. He heard the sound of a door open, then a pause, then he was thrown to the ground again. The door slammed behind him.

His bonds had been loosened, for some reason. Dean worked for only a few minutes before he managed to get his hands free. Quietly, he pulled the pillowcase from his head. He saw beige walls, but no other people. His captors appeared to have left him alone. What the hell?

He quickly untied his legs and stood up cautiously.

He was in…some empty apartment? No windows, though, nothing he could climb out of, the walls were all blank. There was some weird industrial type lighting on the ceiling. There was a main room with a couch and coffee table, with a small kitchen just to the left. Back in an alcove in the back of the room, he could see a rather messy unmade bed, piled with pillows. Since there did not seem to be any exit that way, he turned around to try the door behind him, and did a double take. What? It was a heavy metal door, which was, of course, locked.

“Damn.” He slammed his fist against it with force.

A small sound behind him made him spin around. A man suddenly sat up on the bed in the back of the room. He pushed the blankets away and put a hand to his head. “Where am I?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you would know that, buddy.” Dean turned around to face the door again. “They have us locked in here.”

“Locked in?” Dean heard feet hitting the floor and turned to see the guy approaching him. He was a bit shorter than Dean, with dark mussed hair and piercing blue eyes. He had a dark five o’clock shadow which contrasted sharply with his pale skin.”I don’t…” The man finally got a good look at Dean and all of the blood drained from his face. “Oh, God.”

“What, are you alright?”

The man’s eyes were locked on Dean’s face. Dean hesitated. He looked kind of familiar.

The man rushed by him and began yanking on the door.

“Dude, it’s locked. We are not getting out that way.”

“No, no, oh, no…” the man chanted as he continued pulling on the door.

“Hey.” Dean reached out to grab his arm.

“Don’t touch me!” the other man snapped, jerking back as if Dean tried to light him on fire. He retreated back across the room and sat back down on the bed. He placed his head in his hands. “Damn them. Damn them.”

Okay, Dean thought to himself. They had dragged him out of his house and locked him in a room with a crazy person. “Okay, look. Dude, calm down. We just need to figure out a way to get out of here.”

“There’s no way.” The man looked up at him with red, watery eyes. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly.

“We’ll find a way. Okay? Let’s figure this out.” Dean scanned the room, searching for any clue as to why they were here. “How did you get here? I got jumped by three guys, I think, inside my house. What about you?”

The guy didn’t answer him. He just kept staring at the floor. Dean sighed. He was apparently on his own. He decided to try another tack. “My name’s Dean, by the way.”

“I know.”

Dean raised his eyebrows “You know?”

“We’ve met.”

“We have?”

“Yes, at a CSSEG meeting in Lawrence.”

The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood up. “Fuck. You’re a Sentinel.”

“Yes,” the man said quietly. “My name is Castiel.”

The memory burst in on him. Yes, of course he had met the guy. At the stupid mixer years ago. He had been a few beers in, feeling pretty good, when he had got to talking to this guy, Castiel. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Panic rose in his chest. He turned and began banging on the door.

“Calm down,” Castiel now echoed him. He added quietly. “They’ll let you out in a few days.”

“A few days!” Dean whirled around.

“Just stay on that side of the room. I won’t touch you.”

“Yeah, you better not.”

Dean walked as far away from the Sentinel as he could get, “Who are ‘they’ anyway? Where the hell are we?”

“A CSSEG facility,” the other man responded tonelessly. “I’m not sure where. Chicago, St. Louis, maybe?”

“A facility?” Dean asked.

“We are in a bonding suite.”

“Yeah, I got that, thanks”

There was a moment of silence before the Sentinel said quietly. “I didn’t ask for this. I’m sorry.”

Dean began to pace. “Then help me find a way out.”

“There’s no way out, and even if there was and you managed to get out of the room,” He shrugged. “you’d still be in the middle of the facility. They’d probably bring you back.”

“Why? CSSEG doesn’t authorized forced bonding last time I checked.”

Castiel laughed bitterly. “No, but you were kidnapped from your home. Someone is obviously bending the rules.” He stayed silent for a moment. Dean thought he looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Why?” Dean finally asked.

Castiel was silent for another long moment, before he said, “I didn’t ask for this.” He looked Dean in the eye. “It’s important to me that you know that.” He swallowed. “I’ve been zoning out more and more lately and have been advised to find a guide as soon as possible.”

“But why me?” Dean insisted. “I am hardly a dues-paying member.”

“I didn’t ask for you,” Castiel insisted. Dean wondered for a brief moment why that statement stung before the other man went on. “I must have mentioned you to someone once, and they thought you were a suitable candidate.”

Dean stopped pacing, and turned to look at the other man. “Who are ‘they’?’ Who are you talking about?”

Castiel held his gaze for a minute, and then sighed, “My family…and maybe my friends at the FBI are involved. I’m not sure--“

“And they know about me?” Dean asked incredulously. “We only met one time, and I remember I was pretty drunk. Have you been pining for me for eight years?”

Castiel glared at him. “We had a connection. I know you felt it too.”

Dean looked away from him, “I know I was having a good time. Do you know what normal people do when they are having a good time? They ask to do it again. Or ask for a phone number or something. They don’t start spouting off about bonding, or suggest getting tested together, or any of that crap you did.”

“I hardly saw the point in prorogation.”

Dean laughed, “Well, if you didn’t see the point—“

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be courted—“

“Oh, for God’s sake.” They were shouting at each other now. Dean could hardly believe this. Could this day get any stranger?

The both fell silent for a minute.

Finally Dean said, “I was 20 years old. My parents were dead and I had a 16-year-old brother depending on me. I wasn’t going to abandon him for…” He suddenly could remember that night as if it was yesterday. He wasn’t going to abandon Sam for some strange, hot guy even if he was promising a future, even if they had talked for hours about nothing and it have never been awkward or uncomfortable. Even if every relationship he had had in the last eight years hadn’t compared to those hours. There had been a connection, but—

“I would never have asked you to.” Castiel’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I would have…Well,” he smiled sadly. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Guess not,” Dean muttered gruffly.

He continued to prowl around the suite. He headed in to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge and blinked.” Well,” he called out. “At least we won’t starve.” The thing was packed to the gills. He found the pantry equally well stocked.

Castiel remained silent. Dean found an intercom on the kitchen wall and pressed it eagerly, but there was no response.

“Intercom doesn’t work,” he reported.

“I am sure they disabled it. At least temporarily,” Castiel replied tonelessly.

Dean walked back into the other room. He stared at the Sentinel, who was just sitting quietly on the bed. “So, you’ve been zoning out? And that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not good,” Castiel replied. “Especially in my line of work.”

“Truck driver?” Dean suggested. “Kindergarten teacher, airline pilot?

Castiel gave him a baleful look. “I am an FBI agent.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I remember. Any big cases lately?”

Castiel looked puzzled.

“What?” Dean asked. “We are trapped in here together. Might as well talk about something. I could tell you about the oil I changed yesterday, but that wouldn’t be as interesting.”

Castiel shrugged. “Last month I was part of the team that found Chelsea Channing.”

“I heard about that. That senator’s daughter that got lost while hiking?“

“Yes, she was the one.”

“That’s pretty cool. You saved her life.”

“Yes, it’s always nice to find someone alive.” Castiel swallowed. “Our last case…was not as good.”

Dean leaned forward, “What happened?”

Castiel told him all about the latest case, and several others. They talked for a while time, until Castiel’s eyes were drooping and he was starting to slur his words. “I need to rest,” he said.

“Sure,” Dean said, and watched the Sentinel lay back down on the bed facing the wall.

***

Dean spent another hour going over every inch of the room, keeping an eye on the sleeping Sentinel.

“A few days,” he muttered. He looked around. “This is going to get old pretty quick.”

He spied some books on the end table and flipped through them. “The Sentinel” by Blair Sandburg, “A Guide’s Guide” by Blair Sandburg, “The Sentinel/Guide Relationship” by Blair freaking Sandburg. So much for reading material. Dean slammed them back down on the table with a loud bang, then looked guiltily over at the man sleeping. Castiel didn’t want to be here either, so it seemed a bit rude to bother him while he was sleeping. Luckily he didn’t seem disturbed. His eyes were closed and his breathing even.

Well, Dean was starving.

He fixed himself a roast beef and cheddar cheese sandwich and then headed back out to the living area. He picked up “A Guide’s Guide” and began to skim through it.

When I first set out to find a living Sentinel to base my dissertation on, I had no idea I was beginning the most important relationship of my life.

Dean rolled his eyes. But since he had nothing else to do, he continued to plow through it. Ten pages in it started to get interesting. Sandburg related how he had met this cop, “Joe”, and how they had fleshed out Joe’s special skills together. He related several experiences they had, such as terrorists taking over a police station, a heist that involved a protected witness, a moving train, and drug lords that were out for vengeance. Exciting stuff and Dean soon found himself reading avidly.

Interspersed with the stories, Sandburg related advice for the Guide in a Sentinel/Guide pairing. Advice on what to do when a Sentinel was in a zone, the best way to pull them out of a zone, how to soothe a Sentinel if they became over stimulated. A lot of touchy feely crap, Dean thought. After about an hour (there were no clocks in this place so he couldn’t tell for sure) he put the book down on the coffee table and dozed off for a while.

He jerked awake with sudden realization he was late for work, only to find himself still trapped. How the hell was he going to explain this to Rufus? Dean must have been asleep for hours since he was hungry again. He glanced at the man lying on the bed. Castiel hadn’t moved at all. Dean figured he must be hungry as well and wondered if he should try to wake the other man up, then remembered his instructions to stay on this side of the room.

He stood up and called, “Hey, you hungry over there?” No response.

“Castiel?” He took a few steps closer to the bed. “Cas?”

He reached the bed and leaned over to look at the prone form. His heart gave a painful twist at what he saw. Castiel’s eyes were open and staring, his pupils wide and unresponsive. The words Dean had read came rushing back at him. The Sentinel was in a zone.

“Crap, crap,” he said, trying to remember what he had just read.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice low and even. “Castiel? Castiel, listen to my voice, okay? I am right here. Can you wake up, Castiel?” The book had stressed using their name as often as possible.

He lifted his hand, and then hesitated, remembering Castiel’s admonishment not to touch him. But hell, he couldn’t leave this guy in a zone, could he?

“Castiel, I am going to touch your face, okay?” He reached down and cupped Castiel’s cheek. It felt way too hot. “Castiel, can you hear me?” There was still no response.

Dean kept trying. An hour later, he had flipped through the entire book, trying everything suggested to pull Castiel out, but nothing gave him even the smallest response. Dean didn’t know what to do. This was serious right? He paced, wondering what he should do. He thought about draping the sheet over Castiel’s face, since his wide, unseeing eyes were really unsettling him, but he didn’t want to inadvertently hurt the other man. He wandered into the kitchen, and saw the intercom.

He jammed his finger on the button insistently for a few minutes before a bored voice responded, “Yes?”

Dean felt relief rush through him. “Um, yeah, we need help in here. This guy is in a zone and I can’t get him out.”

There was a pause, and the voice said, “You are a guide, aren’t you? You should know how to pull a Sentinel out of a zone.”

Dean resisted the urge to smash his fist into the intercom. “I’ve tried everything. It’s not working. I need some help.”

The voice sighed, much put upon. “I’ll see if Dr. Harvelle is available.”

The intercom clicked off. Dean stared at it blankly for a moment. He was so out of his league here. He supposed it should go back in and keep trying, but he couldn’t stand Castiel’s wide, sightless eyes anymore.

About 5 minutes later the intercom buzzed again and a female voice with a slight southern twang said, “This is Dr. Harvelle.”

Dean tried again. “Yes. Yes, there is a Sentinel in here in a zone and I can’t get him out of it.”

“Okay, Suite 4…I don’t seem to have your paperwork here. What is your name and the Sentinel’s?”

“I’m Dean Winchester, and the sentinel is Castiel…something.”

“Castiel?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah.” Dean thought he heard her mutter something.

“Okay, Dean. My name is Ellen. Can you tell me what have you done so far?”

Dean related his actions of the past hour, answering Ellen’s questions. She sounded grimmer as they went on.

“Okay, now, does he feel hot to the touch?”

“Yeah, he’s burning up.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I’ll be right there.” The intercom clicked off.

A few minutes later a heavy clank sounded in the room and the door swung open. An woman walked briskly in. She was a bit older than Dean, with long brown hair and full lips. She sized Dean up with a quick flick of her brown eyes then was at Castiel’s side in seconds. Dean starred at the door that had been left open, part of him clamoring to make an escape, but a glance behind him at Ellen leaning over Castiel, and he knew he had to stay. He couldn’t leave Cas behind.

Dean watched Ellen repeat everything he had already tried to do with the same result.

“I don’t think there is anything more we can do.”

“That’s what I have been telling you, lady. Now get some EMTs in here.”

“Dean,” Ellen looked at him sadly. “There’s nothing EMTs can do, either. He’s in a Zone fever, and he has signed a refusal of any additional medical aid in that case.”

“What?!” Dean was shocked. “So you are just going to leave him like this?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The only thing that could possibly bring him back now is a bond with a willing guide. And,” She gave him a telling look, “Since I can find any of your paperwork, or even find you in the system, I am going to guess it wasn’t your idea to come here.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Not a lot, but it has happened. If you want to come with me, we can file a report—“

“I’m not leaving him.” The words burst from Dean. He wasn’t quite sure where they had come from, but once said, he knew they were true. He wasn’t going to let Castiel die without trying to save him. Sure, this guy freaked him out eight years ago, but Sam…Sam didn’t need him anymore, and Dean didn’t have anyone else, and how could he look himself in the mirror from now on, knowing he had a chance to save this guy, and he didn’t take it?

Ellen sighed. “You have to be willing, Dean. The connection that forms has to come from both of you. Castiel refused any kind of artificial bonding procedures.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Dean…”

“Ellen, I’m not saying this isn’t freaking me out, because believe me, it is. But I can’t let this guy die while I’m sitting on my hands. I have to give it a shot. So tell me what to do.” Before I lose my nerve, he added silently.

“Skin to skin contact.” Ellen said. “As much as possible.”

“Skin to skin contact? He’s in a zone, he doesn’t have hypothermia.”

Ellen laughed. “Treatment’s the same. Skin to skin contact might bring him around, and after that, well, just go with your instincts.” She paused. “Good luck, Dean.”

She shook his hand, then left, closing the door behind her.

“Okay,” Dean said to himself.

Castiel was still lying there, horribly still.

“Skin to skin contact.” Dean pulled off his shirt and toed off his shoes. He unzipped his jeans and then after a moment, pulled them off along with his underwear. “As much as possible,” he repeated.

Dean then had to remove the other man’s clothes. Castiel didn’t move a bit while Dean removed his clothes. He had to tear Castiel’s shirt to get it off. Finally, when they were both naked, Dean crawled into the bed besides him. He wrapped his arms around the other man and pulled him onto his chest. It was weird, like hugging a hot statue. The heat rolled off Castiel’s body, and Dean made sure their legs were intertwined as he ran his hands up and down Castiel’s back. When Dean checked, he discovered Castiel’s eyes had closed. He hoped that was a good sign.

Laying there with the other man on top of him, Dean’s thoughts suddenly began to race. What if this didn’t work? When would he give up? What if it did? He was going to be permanently bonded to this man he had only known for hours. What would happen to him? Blind panic began to overtake him and he started breathing faster. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of a full out panic attack, when slowly, the other man’s body began to relax and mold into his. Castiel’s head rested against Dean’s neck, his breath gently puffing over his throat. Dean felt his panic dissipate. A sudden languor overtook him, and his eyes began to drift close. He was asleep in minutes.

***

Castiel drifted back into consciousness and wondered if he was dead. He kept himself perfectly still and took account of himself. He must be dead. That could be the only explanation for how he felt right now. His senses were in total control, and he didn’t feel any of the lingering aches from keeping himself so tightly in check.

He must be dead.

His mind drifted. He knew how upset his family was going to be, and he felt a pang of guilt at leaving Dean locked alone in that room with his body. Castiel hoped they would let him out as soon as possible. He sighed and enjoyed the weightless feel of his body and the warmth surrounding it.

He was jolted out of this reverie by a low snore from just above his head. He raised his head and forced his eyes open. Then closed them again. No, this must be some dying hallucination, because he could not be seeing what he thought he was. Not Dean Winchester lying naked underneath him.

He opened his eyes, but Dean was still there. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took. Castiel wasn’t sure what to concentrate on first. He wanted to count the spray of freckles across Dean’s nose, wanted to inventory each eyelash, memorize the curve of his nose. Castiel couldn’t stop himself. He slowly stroked his hand down Dean’s cheek.

Dean stirred, and leaned into his hand. His eyes slowly blinked open, focused, and he said, “Hey, you’re awake.” He smiled.

Castiel felt the bonding energy pulse around them. It was a tangible thing. Oh, God, he couldn’t stop this now. He could barely resist Dean when he was across the room radiating hostility at him. There was no way to resist him, smiling and sleep soft and naked underneath him.

“Dean,” he choked out. “I am so sorry.” He tried to pull away, but Dean’s arms tightened around him.

“Hey,” Dean replied. “S’okay. I couldn’t let you die.” He angled his neck and pressed his lips against Castiel’s. It was a slow, sweet kiss. Castiel savored the taste of Dean in his mouth, chased his tongue around his mouth in a slow, sensual dance.

When Dean pulled back, his eyes were clouding over. He was going into the fog state, where he would become relaxed and passive and the bond between them would form. Castiel had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. “Dean,” he whispered. “Dean.”

“Mmmnn, Cas,” Dean murmured back.

“Are you sure? Please Dean, are you sure?” Castiel wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself at this point. Wasn’t sure that their bonding wasn’t already half complete, but for Dean, he would try to pull back. He pressed his hands to Dean’s shoulders and pushed himself up.

Dean moaned, as if the loss of contact was causing him physical pain. “Cas,” he pleaded. “Cas, come back.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel’s arms were shaking with effort. Mine, his whole body seemed to be clamoring. Mine, mine, mine.

“Sure,” Dean mumbled, arching his back in effort to get closer. “Sure.”

That would have to be enough. Castiel leaned down and pressed his mouth to Dean’s left shoulder. He tasted the skin for a moment, before he took a deep breath and bit down, hard. Dean jerked and cried out, but Castiel’s arms snapped around him and held him still. He continued to bite until the taste of his Guide’s blood exploded on to his tongue.

Dean was gasping above him as Castiel lovingly licked and suckled the bite. He then raised his head and took Dean’s mouth with his own again, pleased to note that Dean was still in the fog state, and remaining unmoving beneath him. Their bond was flowing between them now, ready to be consummated as it twined tighter and tighter around them. The rest of the world spun away.

Afterwards, Castiel held Dean against his chest, and he slowly stroked a hand up and down his back. He never thought this was possible. He was prepared to die just hours ago, and now he had a new life with his Guide to look forward to.

“Cas?” Dean asked softly

“Yes?” Castiel slowly drew his hand through Dean’s hair, earning him a pleased moan.

“What are we going to do when we leave here?”

Dean’s use of ‘we’ made Castiel smile. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

Dean pressed his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “You mean that?”

“Of course.” Castiel pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “Whatever you want.”

“But don’t you have your work?”

“Dean.” Castiel nuzzled into the bite mark on Dean’s shoulder. He would have to get up soon and treat it with an antiseptic wipe. “Nothing is as important to me as you. I’ll resign from the FBI and move to Lawrence with you if you want.”

“No,” Dean murmured. “You can’t do that. Your work is important. You save people.”

“So do you,” Castiel smiled. “You saved me.”

 

_*2 Years Later*_

“Alright, asshole, you’re under arrest!” Dean slammed the man onto the hood of the car.

Cas managed not to roll his eyes. Dean was still technically a consultant for the FBI. He wasn’t supposed to arrest anyone. But he handed Dean his cuffs and watched him lead the guy over to the local police.

“Make sure you Mirandize him,” Dean instructed as the perp was swiftly locked in the back of a police car. He turned, and grinned at Cas. “Another day’s work.”

That particular expression never failed to make Cas’s heart turn over. “Indeed,” he replied.

“I like these local cases,” Dean said, as he led the way to the Impala. “Means we can sleep in our own bed tonight.”

“You just like them since they don’t involve flying,” Cas retorted.

“Hey, I am better than I used to be.”

Cas smiled at the memory. During their first flight, Dean had practically crawled into his lap during takeoff. Pam still teased him about it occasionally. Cas climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

Dean started the car and put it in gear. “So,” he said as they pulled onto the road. “Sam and Jess get in on Friday. Think we can leave an hour early to pick them up?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem. I am glad they could come for Christmas.”

“Me, too. I told Sam it was only fair he comes here since he missed Thanksgiving in Indiana.” Dean smiled at him.

Cas laughed. “I think he should consider himself lucky he missed the drinking contest between you, Raph, and Gabriel.”

Dean shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“I should remind you, since the office Christmas party is Thursday, and Pam and Victor can drink you under the table.”

“We’ll see,” Dean replied. They drove for a while, idly chatting about what they could do with Sam and Jess while they were in town. As they pulled into the local police station and parked, Dean reached over and pulled Cas into a long embrace. “Try not to take too long in there,” he said. “I have plans for us for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cas replied, a bit breathlessly.

“Uh huh,” Dean replied. “I’m doing the courting tonight.”

Cas laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> More thanks to spacebabe for her great beta work. All remaining mistakes and inconsistencies are my own
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any comments/criticism you may have. The title of this story is taken from the song “One Sweet Love” by Sara Bareilles.


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